The Making of a Masterpiece
by Prying11Pandora7
Summary: The Phantom has been watching over Christine's child since she was born, and Christine will stop at nothing to protect her child. But with her daughter's curious nature the Phantom will not remain a secret for long, not when she begins to write his opera
1. Chapter 1

**So here is my new story i promised you all i hope it is going to be a good one! Quite different from the first :D**

**Enjoy and please review and tell me what you think.**

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><p><strong>The Making of a Masterpiece<strong>

Chapter 1

_(Eighteen years after the fire at the Opera Populaire.)_

A lowly shadow floated dreamily along the green tinted lake, a thin fog crawled along, stroking the soft water as if by the fingertips. The repetitive drip echoes over the lonely expanse mixed with the sound of water bumping against the great portcullis where the water stretched into the cavern. Drip, drip. A faint golden light shone from the opposite end of the portcullis, slowly it grew larger and brighter till wood made small insignificant ripples along the water like a ice skater's impressions on the ice as a skull topped gondola came into view; gliding sensuously across the lake.

Two figures were slightly obscured from view by the dank oppressive shadows, one sitting and one manoeuvring the water craft. A long pole sank slowly into the water causing the ripples to widen at the touch, some black material also traced the water's edge as the pole thumped against the lake's floor and the portcullis in front began to moan as it was startled into action. The pole withdrew from the water causing more droplets to fall, interrupting the monotonous drip and altering the tempo slightly, the material too was languidly removed from the green depths. The boat sailed through the open portcullis revealing the treasures inside yet neither person on the gondola appeared particularly astonished as the boat slowly came to rest at the cavern's edge. The misty fog was slightly thicker and added to the mysterious atmosphere wrapped around this secret. The first figure laid down the pole on the shoreline and jumped nimbly from the craft before holding out a black hand for the second who considered the gesture before repeating the first figures actions.

The first crossed over to a table and lit a candle as the only light source before swinging the great heavy cloak round and off his shoulders, revealing the muscular frame beneath a white shirt, he folded the cloak in his arms and stared at the unmoving figure. The candlelight revealed a womanly heart-shaped face but most of her was still in darkness, the man gestured to the material in his hands.

"You should have accepted my cloak."

The woman did not answer, "It smells dusty." She remarked carelessly turning her head, her hair falling over a shoulder.

"Dusty?" Inquired the man with a small laugh, "What a peculiar remark my dear, and here I thought I was the queer one."

"Perhaps not as queer as I once thought." Countered the woman. "It smells dusty and there are no candles. There has always been so much light when I visited before."

"The dust is due to my carelessness, forgive me and what use is light when I am not in the present room?" The man smirked slightly, most of his features were concealed too. "But still the cloak was meant for you."

"I did not mean to waste your kindness Erik." Answered the woman curtly.

"Just accidently wasting it then."

The woman cast him a scathing look before approaching a candelabra and picking up a box of matches, the man, Erik quickly crossed over and took the box from her.

"Allow me, you must remember I am not used to…visitors." He stretched out the word and an awkward silence fell between them both. Erik began to walk around the lair filling the lair with light and his features became clearer, the woman did not move from where she was standing.

"I believe that is enough light for now." She stated and Erik ceased at once, gave her a analytical look before taking a seat on the piano stool in front of the woman.

"Why are you here? No one was more surprised than me to receive a letter from you."

"I was surprised I had to send it. The lair has been restored I see."

"I have had eighteen, long years to do it in." Erik's hands absentmindedly played a few notes that fitted melodiously well.

"But that is not all you have done in these years apart is it Erik." The woman had reached her point.

"By what are you referring?" Asked Erik with an air of boredom.

"I came here tonight because I wish you to cease this obsessive act you have started again. She is too young for your attentions."

"She handles my attentions well as she is unaware I am watching her."

"Which makes it ever more scandalous."

Erik leaned forward his voice a touch colder. "I am no licentious lout. I have never once watched her to satisfy my own needs."

"How can I be sure of that?" Asked the woman.

"You cannot. You must trust me, something you have always had trouble doing round me."

"I did not trust myself around you Erik." The woman spoke truthfully and Erik's lips curled into a slight sneer.

"True."

"Regardless of me, this is my daughter we are speaking of as you rightfully know. She does not wish to know of you, of anything to do with you."

"Do not lie to me." Hissed Erik, "She asks constantly, her curiosity is intriguing."

The woman straightened herself and pulled her own thinner, finer cloak round her petite body, the navy hood still concealed her features yet her body was that of a dancers. "Stay away from my child. Do not lure her as you did to another before."

"I was wrong before, I was too foreward. I wanted the impossible and dared to hope it could be achieved but as I have grown older I realise the possibility of love is out of the question."

"I would not go so far…"

"I now know that _things _like me are better off without love, the cannot taint anyone with our poisonous touch." Interjected the man fiercely, his eyes shining.

"Erik, you are not poison. I myself have touched you and am perfectly alright. A little shaken and I still tremble at you but I too have grown and with it I am stronger. You wish of not tainting anyone so I beg you not to corrupt my daughter as you have tried in the past."

"Never corrupt!" Shouted Erik as he stood sharply his fingers making a ghastly sound of noise as if the organ was shrieking in agreement with the man.

"It still remains that she has not once spoken of any desire to meet or talk of you to me."

"Not to you she would not, she fears your reaction."

"The fact remains Erik…"

"Facts can be coloured by the personalities of those who present them!" Shouted the man angrily, storming away a few feet trying to keep his temper under control. The woman slowly approached and laid a tentative hand on his shoulder.

"Leave her be. Her curious nature will be her undoing if she is not careful, I am unsure if you are the person she believes you are."

The woman removed her hand and walked back towards the gondola.

"And what about me? I have no say in the matter, I must do as you say?"

"I would like you to at any rate."

"This is your daughter, I believe I have at least a small right to meet her, to be able to converse with her."

"I do not think you do. It has been…interesting seeing you again Erik, I am sorry I wish it to be the last." She climbed into the gondola and took the pole from the shore, "I am quite capable of making the trip across the lake myself." There was a moment's silence as the man watched the boat push away.

"What if I refuse?" Erik's voice had darkened again and echoed all around. The boat stopped.

"I shall set the gendarmes on you. I put them off you and I can easily reverse that."

Erik was left speechless as his opportunity slipped even further away from him. "I simply wish to watch over her, make sure she is alright and to possibly teach her."

"If she wishes to sing then we shall find her the tutor she needs. If I catch you one more time or if she mentions the shadow I will call the gendarmes. I want that passageway sealed shut and I will attempt to break through to test if it is." With that the gondola began its slow accent towards the light as the Phantom stood on the shore watching her sail away, the white mask gleaming in the candlelight.

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><p><strong>Just a taster to pique your interest :) I wanted to capture some sensuous language in this. Oh and major brownie points to anyone who figures out who the "woman" is :D <strong>

**Review please x**


	2. Chapter 2

**I am thrilled to already have had two reviews keep them coming folks! Please! Next chapter is up wooo and i had some real trouble thinking of where i wanted to go with this!**

**Enjoy it :D **

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><p>Chapter 2<p>

The soft clump of hooves on fresh grass flashed by in the crisp spring air as the blossoms on the nearby cherry tree caught the sudden gust of wind and twirled merrily in the sky, only to be disturbed by a second pair of hooves. One particular blossom danced in the morning sky before settling itself right on the nose of a midnight black steed who snorted at the nasal intrusion and jittered the fine carriage, with a quick snap! The two horses stopped all together in front of the huge Parisian Opera house. The coachman sprung to open the carriage door only to find it opening by itself, revealing a finely trimmed man in a navy suit, who was staring up at the familiar abode with quiet tenacity.

"Monsieur…"

"I am more than capable of opening a door on my own Jean."

"Of course Vicomte."

The coachman instantly took up his position at the head of the horses as the Vicomte made his way to the Opera Populaire's steps; he paused and turned.

"Be ready to leave in ten minutes time, I do not expect to stay for long. Shelter them in the stables."

The coachman nodded and pressed the horses onwards leaving the Vicomte to grimly admire the stunning edifice before him once again. Memories swam hauntingly before his eyes and pulling his suit jacket a little tighter round him, made his way inside.

The startling grand foyer of rich gold statues and marble greeted him, a solitary cleaner was busily polishing the stairs so much that the Vicomte could almost see his reflection. As he gracefully swanned up the stairs the cleaner upon seeing him instantly removed herself uttering a small apology which the Vicomte casually waved away. Pushing open the double doors of the auditorium the Vicomte instantly smiled at the rouge plush seats and boxes that lined the walls, he habitually glanced at one box in particular, box five, before being distracted by what was occurring onstage.

A woman dressed head to toe in black with a long, sharp cane was busy ordering the ballet girls into a formation, attempting to be heard over the general hub of noise.

"Girls…girls grande… girls!"

"You will get nowhere unless you bang that cane of yours on the ground Antoinette." Said the Vicomte from behind her with mirth.

The ballest mistress wheeled round and her aging features lit up. "Vicomte, it is a pleasure to see you again." She swiftly approached him and placed two kisses on each cheek, the Vicomte accepted the gesture without question.

"Madam Giry, will you ever refer to me by my name?"

"I am afraid the habit is not yet instilled in me Raoul." She replied with another smile.

Raoul returned it and clapped his hands together as the volume of noise increased, Madam Giry glared at a group of flowers in pointe shoes who were busy giggling at the Vicomte.

"Go on, bang that infamous cane. You know it is the only way." Insisted Raoul.

"Oh very well" Muttered Antoinette, she raised the cane and the sound echoed throughout the auditorium. The girls instantly fell silent. "Thank you." Antoinette cast a glance at the Vicomte before resuming her teachings, "Once again from the second variation if you will Monsieur Reyer."

The conductor nodded with a slight air of boredom, not bothering with a reply as the orchestra's beauty rose from the pit below. The girls set off in leaps and twirls across the stage, some of the moves almost super human feats of grace as Vicomte watched slowly taking in the majesty once again. Madam Giry turned towards him once again.

"Why the sudden visit Raoul?" She inquired, folding her arms.

"I am having a brief word with Firman and Andre about the financial state of the Opera Populaire, yet have been unsuccessful in locating them."

"They are in a meeting Vicomte." Answered Madam Giry as she began to tap out the rhythm for the girls who were beginning to struggle.

"What? I am the patron, why am I not involved in this?"

"Because this meeting does not require your services." Madam Giry now had her eyes focused on the rafters above watching a stagehand staring hungrily at the girls below, the Vicomte had a sudden flash of a body dangling from the very same rafter a good nineteen years ago.

"So he is conducting his own meetings now is he?" Asked Raoul with a bitter note in his voice.

"He has always had meeting with the managers."

"One would hardly call them meetings when one does not even show their face." Bit back the Vicomte harshly.

"On the contrary, he does show his face. It is only when the need be that he remains in the shadows."

"Remarkable, the man has some courage after all."

"Have you learned nothing over the years Vicomte?" Asked Antoinette with a touch a frost. Raoul stared into her jade eyes for a moment before pulling away.

"Inform the managers I stopped by and will return tomorrow for a meeting of my own."

"_All_ the managers?" Madam Giry took a step forward in a challenging nature.

"If the third wishes to be present this time then so be it _all _the managers." Spat back Raoul and with an abrupt turn he set off down the aisle and through the doors.

Antoinette turned back to the dancers who had finished and had been watching the conversation with keen ears. "Again." Antoinette yelled, "And if it does not improve soon, you shall be rehearsing tonight with my daughter as well." The girls sighed collectively moaning about sore ankles and bruised bones but leapt once more into the routine, only one girl refused to move at all. She was sitting on the stage and holding her ankle, trying to hide the pain etched on her face, Madam Giry gently approached the girl and knelt down beside her, a feat which caused her some pain herself.

"Rosaline, my child what is the matter?"

The girl shook her head and tried to stand only to fall the floor if not for Antoinette's helping hand. She pushed some of her chocolate hair out of her eyes. "I hate pointe shoes, I keep falling." To prove her point Rosaline slipped again and quickly steadied herself, "Ah, my ankle."

"What have you done?"

"I think it is twisted." Admitted Rosaline as this time she used Antoinette's weight as a support, he ankle a little out of place.

"I believe you are right my dear. You are off dance for the rest of the week, until it heals." Madam Giry helped the girl into a nearby chair before summoning over two of the other girls. "Please assist Rosaline in walking to your dormitory, I shall attend to it soon." The two nodded happy to be relieved from the rigorous training and eagerly supported the young ballerina.

The girls swiftly made their way through the winding Opera House and to a wooden door, they carefully helped to lie Rosaline in the bed nearest the small circular window.

"Have you twisted it Rose?" Asked one of the girls, Rosaline nodded.

"Yes it is rather painful. Can I be cheeky and ask for a cold compress?"

"Not at all, it happens to all of us." Answered the other girls as she turned to walk out of the room.

"Yes rather now than on-stage like Bella did." Called the other girl teasingly. There was an indignant cry from down the hall which made the other two laugh together, Rosaline's a bell-like quality.

"I am so envious of your laugh." Said the other ballerina, returning with the compress. "It is so melodious."

"Well I am jealous of your eyes Bella, they are such a beautiful shade of brown." Answered Rosaline taking the compress and pressing it on her ankle with a hiss of pain.

"We should return or Madam Giry will shout at us." Said Bella as she turned to leave.

"Or stamp that dreadful cane again." Whined the other, Rosaline waved them goodbye and took the compress from her ankle only to quickly put is back there when Madam Giry's frame filled the doorway.

"Good the girls got you a compress, that will keep the swelling down."

"How long before I can dance again, at least two weeks yes?" Asked the girl, a little bit of hope in her voice.

Antoinette laughed, "Only a few days ma cherie, now come on you enjoy dancing."

"I enjoy normal ballet, pointe shoes are so painful."

"You have only had a weeks' practise in them, of course they will hurt. Do you expect to be perfect at once?"

"Yes." Answered the girl at once. Madam Giry could not resist laughing.

"If only the world worked that way." She rose to leave but was stopped by a call.

"Madam, did my father see me?"

Antoinette turned back and smiled at the innocent rose, one hand still clutching her ankle and her mother's hair falling across her eyes, straight and sleek. "No, he did not."

"Thank goodness, then he did not see me make a fool of myself."

"Child, you should shine, show him what you are capable of."

"Why isn't normal ballet good enough for a singer?"

"It is your mother's wish you are trained in pointe work before you begin to take on arias and the like. She believes it the added posture and core strength will aid your voice."

"Alright." Rosaline gave up and flopped back onto the pillows with a small frown. "Can I return home tonight?"

"I am sure it can be arranged." Madam Giry smiled as she made her way out of the door, "Try and rest my dear sweet Rose."

The door closed and Rosaline waited till she could no longer hear footsteps, counted to ten, pushed the useless compress off her ankle and jumped out of bed and through the door as quiet as a mouse. Hiding in the shadows she quietly made her way through the busy opera house, avoiding all the "flowers" she saw till she ended up in the library. Rosaline moved straight to where the opera's were kept and began perusing them.

"It must be here somewhere." She muttered as she flicked past Don Giovanni and Madam Butterfly. She continued looking so much so that she was unaware of the light footsteps behind her.

"Rose? Mother said you have injured yourself."

Rosaline spun round, a copy of Carmen in her arms. Opposite her was a lithe ballerina in her early thirties with long golden locks and a heart shaped face.

"Meg, i…"

"Rose, did you fake an injury?"

The girl nodded solemnly, she had never been able to lie to her mother's friend.

"I would understand it to get out of dancing, but why on earth are you in the library for?' She wrinkled her nose in distaste, Meg did not frequent the library, Rosaline thought this to be the first time she had ever seen her in there.

"I needed a score."

"A score? What score? Do you want to practise it at night?"

Rose opened her mouth to answer truthfully then changed her story slightly, "Yes, I wish to learn an aria from it."

"Alright, but you could have simply asked me."

"Not for this score."

"Why which opera is it?"

"You would not happen to know where the score for Hannibal is by any chance?" Rose regretted asking straight away as Meg's face turned to stone.

"You are forbidden from singing anything from that opera."

"I know I am, but this is important."

"Why?"

"Because I want to know what song it was that made my mother's career."

"You mother is the one who has forbidden the staff to let you have it. It has been filed away in a secret place along with the _other _secret operas."

"And where is that?"

"The manager's office." Meg slapped a hand over her mouth the minute the words came tumbling from her mouth. Rosaline smirked in delight and placed Carmen back on the shelf, Meg was never one to entrust with a secret.

"Oh goodness, please do not tell them it was I who told you."

"I will not Meg, you are a good friend to me as well as my mother."

Rosaline began to leave but was stopped by Meg's voice. "I may as well as give you the key since you are going to go there straight away." She pulled it from round her neck and handed it to Rose.

"How long have u been hiding that?"

"A little over two months now." Admitted the ballerina, "And I will warn you because I like you that Firman and Andre and in a meeting right now so you had better try and get it after six."

Rose could not help giving Meg a hug, she was a gossip but a good-natured one. Rosaline pretended to limp down the hallway in over exaggerated movements that cause the older ballerina to laugh.

"Oh and Rose." She called, Rosaline stopped once more, "Please do not try and tempt him with music."

"I have no intention of luring him to me." Answered Rose blankly, "But if he comes anyway I will not resist his pull."

And with that final statement and a small curtsey, Rose set off back down the hallway.

Once back in her dormitory Rose lay down on her bed and pulled a shoe box from underneath a small loose floorboard and opened it, digging round for papers. She took out a couple of sheets of music and arranged them on her bed, her hand also found an old pure red rose with a black ribbon tied round it. She stroked a petal lovingly and set it down beside her with a faint gleam in her eyes before taking a pen and some ink and writing in big letters,

THE STORY OF LITTLE LOTTE

Rosaline whiled away a few hours till six by writing out her mother's childhood story she had been told many times.

"Father still calls her Little Lotte." She mused fondly as she wrote another line, before picking it up and trying to sing it.

"_Little Lotte, let her mind wander,_

_Little Lotte am I fonder of dolls, or of goblins or shoes…"_

She could not resist a little chuckle to herself as the pen busily scraped away, just before six she lay the pen down. "Finally finished," She murmured, "Little Lotte with a little part of Angel of Music." Noticing the time she quickly hid all the items back in the shoe box, and placed it in the little floorboard below. "Now to work out what comes before."

The hallways were aglow from the single candle which cast ominous shadows on the walls, it was silent with everyone at supper. Rosaline was completely alone. She tip toed along and saw the Manager's office door left slightly ajar. She sighed in relief that the door was not locked, opened the door and dropped her candle in shock plunging the room into darkness. She scrambled round till her hand found the candle and relit it, her heart in her throat. The shadow inside had frightened her half to death, only one thought raced through her mind, if _he _was here Rosaline's instinct was to turn and run down the hallways as quick as lightning but the determined, tired side who has been scheming this injury for a week would not allow her to give up and with a deep breath she walked into the room.

Rose wasted no time in taking the key from around her neck and fitting it into the desk drawer, open it only to find a stack of financial records. She cursed with a sigh before trying the wardrobe. Nothing, becoming paranoid with the amount of time she had been in the room for Rose began to panic, she wheeled about and took notice of a small hole in the wall just behind the chair. She would not have noticed if it weren't for the plant just below it, as she approached she realised it was just big enough for a key. Rosaline eagerly put the key in the hole, turned it and with a click a small compartment opened very much like as safe does. Inside was a black leather folder with thick gold letters, Rose nearly dropped the candle again as she seized the score, locked the secret compartment again and raced out of the door making sure to close it behind her.

Fearing the demons snapping at her heels she did not stop running till she was safely back in bed holding the precious item in her hands as she ran her fingers over the score.

DON JUAN TRIUMPHANT

Rose opened it and did not stop reading even when the other girls all entered by hiding it in an even bigger score, while all the others slept Rosaline read like a woman possessed. The sheer brilliance of the complicated score was astounding with notes and rhythms she could not comprehend. The man was a pure genius, already knew this. This man was surely the god of music himself blessing her with his greatest treasure. Only when the whole score was read and processing in her mind did Rosaline finally let sleep enfold her in his loving embrace.

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><p>She woke the next morning with the sunlight streaming in through the small window, all the others girls had left for morning practise not bothering to wake Rose as she was strictly off dance. Only Bella remained clutching a letter in her hand, her face as white as a sheet.<p>

"This was on your bedside table." She whispered. Rosaline has never seen the girl look so pale and frightened before, as soon as Rose had took the letter Bella ran from the room before a word could be said. Rosaline turned the letter open and her own blood chilled as her eyes raked the blood red skull seal. With trembling fingers she broke that terrifying seal and removed a sheet of paper, she was so wracked with fear she could barely read the simple sentence.

_It is not nice to steal from others my petite Rose._

_O.G_

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><p><strong>Well we have met our main character and well done to those who caught on to who our woman from Chapter 1 was, i think it is clearer now. ;) <strong>**What do you think guys? Please please PLEASE keep reviewing! :) xxx**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello my fellows Phans, another update from me. Please tell me if you like Rosaline's character i am not sure if she is turning a little Mary-Sue (god forbid!)**

**Anyway hope you enjoy it :D**

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

Rose was back on dance after a quiet warning from Meg, and although she shrugged the letter off as a simple prank from one of the stagehands she was constantly on her toes the whole day. Every time she heard a slight bang in the corridors or footsteps behind her she would turn abruptly as if terrified the Phantom was right behind her. She was off time in rehearsals, sticking incredibly close to the other ballet girls and always glancing up at Box Five. The other ballet girls kept whispering behind her back at her sudden lack of grace and it was not long till Madam Giry beckoned the girl over to her. Antoinette Giry was a shrewd woman who noticed insignificant details that would overlook a normal eye; the woman had noticed Rose's continuous looks into Box Five and sure enough seen the sudden swish of a cloak. Bella had told half of the company about Rose's mysterious letter, it was all she needed to piece the puzzle together. The Phantom had made contact with Rose while she was asleep, all that was needed was confirmation from the two; Antoinette was still trying to make up her mind on her damaged ankle.

Rose admitted defeat in attempting the routine and began in the direction of her tutor who was standing with a hand on her hip and a sympathetic look across her face.

"Is it your ankle still my child?"

Rosaline's eyes widened slightly and Madam Giry pursed her lips. Her assumption had been correct.

"Oh yes Madam, it is still rather painful. But much better today."

Well Rosaline DeChangey was indeed a talented little liar, yet her father would not be pleased when Antoinette told him. However as the girl looked towards Box Five once more, Madam Giry decided to let her off this time. Naturally she had faked her fair share of injuries to get off dance for a day.

"I can see that you are troubled my dear. Is it anything I can help you with?"

Rosaline shook her head instantly, "No Madam, nothing is wrong."

Madam Giry took a decisive step closer and spoke in a low tone, "I have lived in this Opera House for many years and know all of its secrets." She peered into Rose's frightened eyes, "_All_ of them." She added and again Rose's eyes widened.

"You cannot help me Madam." She sighed before returning to the routine. Antoinette sighed yet took up her teaching again.

Madam Giry dismissed the girls when Monsieur Reyer began entering the orchestra pit, she nodded at him once and turned to leave.

"Right Mademoiselle DeChangey, time for your singing lesson."

"Must I do it in front of everyone?" Rosaline was tentative yet encouraged by the other girls, she blushed yet the compliments gave the some strength. Just before she opened her mouth Antoinette could not resist catching her arm and pulling her close.

"I do not pretend to know what he is up to, but if he ever goes too far you come straight to me."

Rose nodded and Madam Giry exited into the wings, Rosaline watched her leave before facing the endless rows of plush velvet seats. She swallowed uncomfortably before raising her sweet soprano to the heavens.

_Green finch and linnet bird,_

_Nightingale, blackbird,_

_How is it you sing?_

_How can you jubilate,_

_Sitting in cages,_

_Never taking wing?_

_Outside the sky waits,_

_Beckoning, beckoning,_

_Just beyond the bars._

_How can you remain,_

_Staring at the rain,_

_Maddened by the stars?_

_How is it you sing_

_Anything?_

_How is it you sing?_

Rosaline peered into the audience where the ballet girls were enthusiastically clapping, she could not help the smile that spread across her cheeks as the little soprano brought her gaze towards the upper balconies.

_Green finch and linnet bird,_

_Nightingale, blackbird,_

_How is it you sing?_

_Whence comes this melody constantly flowing?_

_Is it rejoicing or merely halloing?_

_Are you discussing or fussing_

_Or simply dreaming?_

_Are you crowing?_

_Are you screaming?_

Rosaline knew she belonged in this wondrous world of music as she let it wash over her, heightening her senses with its magnetic pull. She was following in her mother's footsteps and proud to do so. As her eyes raked the boxes she felt herself again drawn to the solitary box, slightly darker than the rest and with the curtains loose instead of in their little golden keepers. Her eyes instantly met a white mask eerily glowing in the upper darkness, she faltered in song but as the eyes behind the white narrowed she quickly fell back in time.

_Ri, Ringdove and robinet,_

_Is it for wages,_

_Singing to be sold?_

_Have you decided it's_

_Safer in cages,_

_Singing when you're told?_

The eyes softened and Rosaline felt a slight turn in the pit of her stomach, out of fear or something else she was not sure. Not being able to read the expression behind that blank canvas was torturous and Rose found herself pouring herself into the rest of the, their eyes never leaving each others.

_My cage has many rooms,_

_Damask and dark._

_Nothing there sings,_

_Not even my lark._

_Larks never will, you know,_

_When they're captive._

_Teach me to be more adaptive._

_Green finch and linnet bird,_

_Nightingale, blackbird,_

_Teach me how to sing._

_If I cannot fly,_

_Let me sing._

Rose was surrounded with applause from her friends below, as she was jolted back into reality. The mask nodded slightly before vanishing into the blackness and she felt a surge of happiness hit her so hard she felt winded, was he _pleased _with her voice? Rosaline knew her voice was above average yet she knew she would never hit the heights her mother reached, though in that small time that mask had made her feel like the most important person in the world. The ballet girls quickly filed out on their way to lunch and Rose curtsied a little and gave a warm smile to Monsieur Reyer, who returned it instantly.

"Very good Rosaline. You faltered at one part but I presume that was mostly nerves. Well done."

Rosaline walked forwards to collect her sheet music from the man. She paused with the music midway between both their hands. "Monsieur Reyer?" She asked tentatively, having been struck with a thought.

"Yes my dear?"

"You conducted for my mother did you not?"

"The Vicomtess? Certainly." The man nodded and seemed to drift away slightly, "Such talent wasted."

"It was not wasted." Rosaline said curtly.

"My apologies, go on."

"Do you ever believe I will be as good as her?"

Monsieur Reyer gently laid a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "You are arguably the best voice here my child, your mother was a year older than yourself when she had her professional debut."

"You are saying that I am not up to her standard yet then."

"No no," The man was quick to correct himself, "You are practically there, the one thing your mother did not have was your maturity." He removed his hand and began to shuffle through the music infront of him. "You have plenty of time for Paris to hear your voice, you will get the recognition you crave."

"The problem with having an Angel of Music for your mother is that everyone expects you to live up to the expectation." Rose grumbled under her breath, Monsieur Reyer laughed. "That may be, but you are not Christine Daae…"

"No I am little Rose Daae, who will never live up to her."

"I am not about to stand here and argue over your talents with you child. You will be ready in time, now if there is nothing more I can do for you then I am very busy."

Rosaline back away slightly knowing she had successfully irritated the conductor, yet one more thought whirling through her mind. "So if I am nearly at my mother's standard then should I not be practicing what she was rehearsing?"

"Such as?" Asked the conductor in a bored tone.

"Monsieur Reyer, what opera was my mother's debut?"

A silence fell between the two of them as Monsieur Reyer stared at her, Rose awkwardly smiled trying to ease the tension she had caused.

"You mean to say she has not told you of her success?" Asked the man incredulously.

"She has mentioned it, just not _what _she sung while she was here."

"Well the opera was Hannibal, she understudied for La Carlotta when she stormed out one day."

"What did she sing?" Asked Rosaline, her breathing pace increasing.

"Think of Me, the aria from Act Three." Monsieur Reyer fumbled around in his music pile for a moment. "As luck would have it here it is."

Rose's eyes stared at the music hungrily, and was restraining herself from ripping it from his grasp. "May I see it?"

Monsieur Reyer handed it over without question, Rosaline's eyes swept over the music greedily devouring every crotchet and rest she came across; a gentle, beautiful melody arose from the piano, Monsieur Reyer smiled.

"Sing along my dear, pick it up."

"But my lesson is over."

"Consider this a little extra sight reading time."

The tune was simple and uncomplicated yet stunningly beautiful.

_Think of me, think of me fondly,_

_when we've said goodbye._

_Remember me once in a while -_

_please promise me you'll try._

_On that day, that not so distant day,_

_When you were far away and free,_

_if you ever find a moment,_

_spare a thought for me._

Rosaline giggled as she began to glide across the sweeping stage, pretending to be Marguerite and her mother. It was such a relieving moment, the foyer was empty apart from herself and Monsieur Reyer, who was smiling at her antics.

"Careful, the next section is coming up." He warned and Rose snapped back to centre stage.

_And though its clear, though it was always clear,_

_That this was never meant to be._

_If you happen to remember,_

_stop and think of me . . ._

_Think of August,_

_When the month was new._

_Don't think about the way things_

_might have been . . ._

_Think of me, think of me waking,_

_silent and resigned._

_Imagine me, trying too hard_

_to put you from my mind._

_Think of me,_

_Please say you'll think of me,_

_Whenever you choose to do-_

_there will never be a day,_

_when I won't think of…_

One of the side lights burst angrily into flames, sparks flying across the stage. The was an ugly mash of keys and a scream from Rosaline as she hurried away from the small blaze that had been dangerously close to where she had been standing. Members of the company flooded the stage in shock from hearing the scream, Meg Giry at the front of the crowd. Monsieur Reyer was over by Rosaline who had sunk to the floor her eyes glaring at Box Five.

"Out of the way." Cried Meg as she dropped to the floor next to Rose. "Are you alright, you are not burned are you?"

The girl raised her arm to show a small wound on her left arm and Meg winced, no tears fell from Rosaline's eyes as her surprised eyes bored into that box. "I will live."

"It must have been him!" Cried a ballet girl in the distance.

"Do not be ridiculous, he is dead." Cried another.

"Died in the fire!"

Shouts erupted everywhere as stagehands appeared in the questionable box. The shook their heads in madness while Meg's face had become severe as she stood up.

"Quiet!" She shouted above the racket, and amazingly enough silence fell. "While this was clearly not an accident as lights do not sudden explode and while many of you have jumped to the conclusion that the Phantom of the Opera has returned, remember that Jean was right. He died in the fire of Don Juan Triumphant, my mother confirmed this and I led the mob down to his lair, and…though this may be his ghost…"

She was interrupted by another frightened scream from one of the sopranos; "The flames of Don Juan, now the flames from the light? The Phantom is warning us because the DeChangey girl sung _their _song."

More murmurs broke out and Meg struggled to reach above them all, while commanding in her speech Meg lacked the authoritativethud of her mother's cane.

"Quiet! I do not believe he intended to hurt Rosaline. We all know who her mother is…" Meg trailed off uncertainly as the girl and young woman made eye contact with each other.

"Christine Daae. The woman he kidnapped." Answered a lethal looking stage-hand who had stepped away from the crowd. He pointed a dirty finger into Rosaline's wary face. "We ain't heard that song since she left and the moment she starts to sing it, disaster strikes." He stepped menacingly closer to Rose who began to shrink under his vast size, Meg too advanced on the man, yet her eyes shone with uncertainty.

"You had better watch that pretty little voice of yours or you could be his next victim." He laughed in the girl's face who was starting to tremble a little under his cruelty, a sharp hand on his shoulder began to drag him away and Rosaline straightened to see the concerned features of Madam Giry. Her daughter a few feet away looking ashamed.

"You should be watching your own voice too Claude. We should all keep ours hands at the level of our eyes."

Half of the company nodded in recognition while the younger half held quizzical eyebrows, Madam Giry did not attempt to enlighten them as her attention was drawn to the snort from Claude.

"The freak is dead Madam, there is no need for those foolish stories you preach. In my opinion its like mother like daughter."

Another light blew from directly above the stage-hands head to more screams of terror from below, including Rosaline. The light began to fall to the ground and the crowd below quickly began to push and shove to not make contact with the burning object.

"Maman, he's here. The Phantom of the Opera!" Cried Meg loudly and Rose shot her a look of surprise as the woman had declared him dead only moments ago. Rosaline looked into the gloom of the rafters yearning for a glimpse of white, but there was none in sight only pure darkness. Madam Giry's cane was banging loudly over the hubbub and instantly began barking orders and threats.

"Two lights that need replacing now, the Managers will have a hernia! Everyone will go back to their rooms for the rest of the day, there will be no mention of the Phantom. If any of you try and provoke whoever is doing this again then there will be hell to pay. No one will wander the corridors tonight and absolutely no one will go looking for him." She shot a meaningful glance over at Rosaline, then the other mass of tutus.

The company began to disperse and Rose ran to clutch onto Meg's hand. "I am sorry I sung it. I did not know it would cause such an impact."

"Of course you didn't." She soothed gently. "No one here blames you."

"Does not seem that way." Rose muttered while staring at Claude's retreating figure, Madam Giry approached the pair with a mothering look in her eyes.

"I do not know why he had decided to show himself in such a dramatic way, but I do not believe he would do such a thing simply over an aria."

"But it was Christine's aria Maman." Urged Meg, "Her debut song."

"Regardless, I do not think Erik would have a problem unless the said singer was doing a poor job."

Rosaline started to weep silently, "So I cannot sing. At least he is honest." She whispered and Meg shot her mother a thunderous look.

"No my child I did not mean it that way. On the contrary I meant it as a compliment that he would not have exploded the lights because you were singing it so well."

"Oh be quiet mother." Said Meg as she drew Rose tighter to her. Out of the corner of Rose's eye she saw Monsieur Reyer approaching them hurriedly, he had picked up the fallen score on his way over and shoved it into Rosaline's arms.

"Take it and burn the tainted thing." He bit furiously before striding out of the foyer. Rose clutched the forsaken item close to her chest as he paused in his strides, he quickly made his way back to them and pushed a skull sealed letter into her hands. Meg and Madam Giry both exchanged fearful looks.

"I was going to burn it, but since it was addressed to you I believe that right goes to you and only you," and with that he exited the auditorium.

"Open it." Encouraged Meg giving her a little push.

"Meg, only Rosaline must read what it says. It is up to her to inform us."

Rosaline took a few steps away from them and shakily opened the fatal document, familiar scripted handwriting greeted her.

_It appears you are fond of stealing people's work. Do not let it happen again my little finch or I will have to intervene._

_PTO Practice your scales tonight as some of the top notes were a little shaky, I know you will perform better when not gazing moronically at me._

Rose glared at the letter allowing her mouth to fall open a little, Meg ran towards her and Rosaline quickly shut the letter.

"He warned me not to sing it again, that is all." She said with an air of finality, Meg cast her a disappointed look but Madam Giry nodded and took her daughter by her arm.

"Is this the first contact you have had from him?" She asked.

"Yes." Lied Rose immediately, "He has not spoken to me before this."

The older woman's eyes peered into Rose's own, daring her to crack, but Rose remained tight lipped and the woman broke first.

"Alright. Both of you to your rooms as I said and do not leave them. I will speak to him tonight."

Rosaline followed the Girys without question, till they stopped outside her dormitory.

"Perpare yourself for an onslaught of questioning." Warned Madam Giry with a slight gait to her words before she and Meg disappeared down the corridor. Rosaline quickly pushed open the door to be met with a cacophony of voices, her eyes never left her bed as she remained silent and lay down. Turning her back on all the curious girls whose snide eyes glared at her lack of answers. Rosaline was adamant she would ignore them, the forbidden music was clutched tightly to her chest as she quietly hid it underneath her bed adding another piece to the puzzle. And even more importantly she knew the Phantom was still alive which only meant one thing to her.

"The Music of the Night is still obtainable." She whispered silently as she closed her eyes. "Erik." She tried the name out on her tongue and decided she loved the way it sounded, "Erik, the Phantom of the Opera." She was barely audible as she allowed herself to daydream about the mysterious masked figure with the sad eyes.

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><p><strong>Hope you liked it please review! 3 <strong>


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